PROLOGUE
I notice him behind a pile of rubble, with a sniper rifle sticking out. I attempt to dodge behind a dilapidated car, but he manages to pull the trigger before I'm completely hidden from sight.
I wait for a few seconds before sneaking a peek through the car window and catch a glimpse of him shoving in a new magazine.
I slam my own sniper rifle on the car hood and set my sights on the prey, but I'm hit with a sense of dread when the trigger produces a horrible clicking sound.
I curse myself silently for not taking nearly enough ammo and scan through my inventory for anything I can use. All I have left is a pistol with a few rounds and a hand grenade.
Charging with my pistol didn't seem like the best idea, even if we were only five matters apart. It would be extremely hard to aim, and there wasn’t any place to take cover. So by that logic...
I grab the grenade from my vest and do a mental countdown. I've got five seconds to get out of the blast radius and avoid getting killed. One more hit and I'm toast.
I yank out the pin and toss the grenade forward as hard I can, and I make a run for it. Since I can’t physically see what's going on behind, all I remember is seeing a bolt flash past me, inches away from my face, and feeling a shockwave so strong that it surged throughout my body and knocked me off my feet.
Instinctively, I turn around and arm myself with my pistol, ready to finish off the fight. All I see are small flames crackling in a small crater where the blast had been, and a spinning pile of loot left behind by its owner.
"Game over." The game 's virtual announcer says.
The crowd around me erupts in applause. When I pull the visor off my face, I'm greeted by a flurry of smiling faces and cheers of the LAN cafe customers.
My competitor yanks his own visor off, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with an unkempt beard, covered in sweat. He clenches his fist and waves it at me angrily.
Even though this isn't the first I've won a match, I can't help but let a grin spread across my face.
"I win."
